


Pointy

by queenhomeslice



Series: Prompto, My Vampire Boyfriend [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Chubby Reader, Curvy Reader, F/M, Heavy Petting, Human/Vampire Relationship, Love Confessions, Minor Injuries, Secret Crush, plus size reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:15:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21585175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenhomeslice/pseuds/queenhomeslice
Summary: Prompto thinks he has a secret--turns out, you already knew.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Reader
Series: Prompto, My Vampire Boyfriend [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1714786
Comments: 22
Kudos: 57





	Pointy

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trash

“Hello?” you mutter groggily. It’s somewhere around the ass-crack of dawn, or maybe earlier—whoever this is better have a damn good excuse for waking you up on your day off. 

“Hey, uh—hey, it’s me,” Prompto murmurs apologetically. “So-sorry, I know it’s late...or, uh, early...” 

You sigh. As mad as you are about being woken up, it’s _Prompto_ , one of your best friends and longtime crush. You know that he wouldn’t call you for a silly reason at such a crazy hour. You rub your eyes and turn over, gripping the phone tighter. “It’s fine. Are you okay? What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing’s wrong, I just...I--” Prompto bites his lip and shakes his head. 

“Be honest, Prom. You called me for a reason, right? I’m here for you.” 

“Yeah.” He pauses. “Can I come over?” 

“Uh...sure? You know you’re always invited...” 

Prompto laughs. “You know I like to ask every time, though. Just to be sure.” 

“You’re invited. Do you want me to put some coffee on?” 

“Uh, no thanks. Maybe some tea?” 

"Sure. I’ll make tea and breakfast. See you soon.” 

“Yeah...thanks,” says Prompto as he hangs up. 

You sigh and roll over, checking the time—it's 6 am and you groan, but throw back the covers and take a quick shower, boiling water and throwing some Eggos in the toaster afterwards. 

The sun is just cresting over the city skyline as Prompto knocks on your door. You open it, freshly showered and dressed in clean, loose-fitting loungewear. Hot tea and waffles are waiting on the coffee table. Prompto’s wrapped up in skinny jeans, a leather jacket, and an oversized blanket scarf, looking as pale and as trendy as ever. His hair is perfectly spiked, and his freckles dance across his chiseled features. Your heart beats a little faster as you stare at him in the blossoming morning light. 

“Hey Prom,” you smile as you blush. “Come in.” 

Prompto nods, relaxing instantly at your invitation, stepping over the threshold just as a beam of light hits the back of his jacket. You close the door behind him and he loosens his scarf, but makes no move to kick off his shoes or take off any of his outerwear. He sits on your couch and cups the steaming mug of tea in his long, slender fingers, taking a tiny sip. You sit next to him and hold the warm mug in your hands, looking at him through the steam that’s rising from the tea. 

“So,” he says quietly, and he almost chokes. “I...I have to tell you something.” 

“Okay?” You rack your brain trying to figure out what big reveal he’s got. 

“How long have we been friends?” 

“About...five years?” 

“And we’re like, best friends, right?” 

“Well, yeah, Prom. I’d like to think so. I mean, I tell you pretty much everything.” 

Prompto nods. “So...there’s this...thing...that I haven’t told a lot of people...but I think it’s time you knew.” He looks down at your carpet, suddenly finding it very interesting. “You know how...I don’t get out much in the daytime?” 

“Your sun allergy,” you say. “Yeah, what about it?” 

“And how I can’t eat garlic.” 

“Your garlic allergy.” 

“Don’t you think it’s weird?” 

“My mom’s allergic to peanut butter, Prompto. I can’t use scented bath bombs because my skin is sensitive. It’s not weird.” 

“I don’t get cold or hot.” 

“Your body is the peak of human performance and you’ve achieved maximum equilibrium.” 

“I have to be explicitly invited everywhere.” 

“You’re super polite.” 

Prompto cracks a small smile and shakes his head. “Honestly. You’re so smart, I thought you might’ve figured it out by now.” 

You rub the lip of your mug with your finger. “Is this gonna be one of those cliché scenes where you goad me into saying that you’re a vampire and asking how long you’ve been twenty-one? Because that is like, super lame.” 

Prompto’s eyes widen in surprise and he meets your gaze, mouth agape. “Wait, you—you _knew_?” 

You snort as you take a long sip of tea. “Well...yeah. I’ve known for a while. But you never mentioned it and it was never a problem and I didn’t want it to be a big deal for you, so I just kinda kept it to myself.” 

“Oh, wow.” Prompto swallows more tea. “Wow. I guess I panicked for nothing, then.” He narrows his eyes. “You’re not like, _afraid_ of me, are you? You know I can like...hear your heartbeat? And it goes up pretty much every time I’m around.” He bites his lip and looks down. “I’m sorry if I scare you...I guess I should’ve told you earlier. I was so grateful for your friendship and I didn’t want you to leave me...or think I was some kind of monster...” 

You feel the heat rising to your face and your heart beats faster—there's no stopping it, not even after Prompto reveals that he can hear every change in your pulse. “Prompto,” you laugh nervously. “My heart doesn’t beat fast because I’m afraid of you...it’s...” you sigh. “I _like_ you. I blush when you’re around because you’re fucking gorgeous, and it’s just...an involuntary response.” 

If Prompto could blush, he would. His pale, freckled features contort in shock as he processes your words. “Wait, you...your heart rate speeds up...because you _like_ me? Not because you’re afraid?” 

You shake your head and place your mug on the coffee table. “I could never be afraid of you.” 

Prompto takes several big gulps of the tea and finishes it, setting the mug next to yours. “Wow. I...I don’t know what to say.” 

“Yeah, well. It’s fine. I hope I didn’t like...ruin our friendship. I’m sorry.” You wipe your eyes of the delicate tears that have gathered at the edges. “It’s stupid for me to even think that I could go out with someone like you. I’m not strong or fast or special, I’m not skinny or pretty, or talented, even...” 

“Hey, hey, woah, where’s all this coming from?” Prompto moves closer and places his fingers under your chin, tilting your head up and bidding you to look at him. His piercing violet-blue eyes are wide, pupils dilated. He parts his plush pink lips and shows his teeth—and you watch as his fangs slowly descend. 

You feel your blood course even hotter and faster through your veins, and all you can think about is how they would feel lodged into your flesh. You lick your lips, and you’re not even aware that you’re doing it until Prompto lifts one of his perfect fingers and rubs along your plush bottom lip; you can’t help but flick your tongue out to meet his smooth skin. 

Prompto makes a low noise of want and his fangs descend fully, tongue flicking out to caress them in slow, fluid motions. You feel yourself already getting wet between your legs, and you squeeze them and roll your hips slightly, contracting your muscles. Prompto’s eyes flick down to ogle your thick body—he seems fixated on your chest. No doubt the sound of your heartbeat is now deafening to him. He tilts your head to the side, fully exposing your neck. You swallow hard. 

“Do it,” you breathe, voice raspy and barely more than a whisper. 

“I can’t,” Prompto replies, voice low and wrecked. “I don’t want to hurt you...” 

You shake your head. “It wouldn’t hurt...I know you’d be gentle...” 

Prompto growls again. “That’s the thing...I don’t _want_ to be gentle...you don’t know how _good_ you smell...” 

“Please, Prompto...please, baby, I want you...” You’re nearly dizzy with lust at this point. You’d figured out Prompto’s little secret years ago, but the revelation that he wanted you just as much as you wanted him...it’s overwhelming. 

“Every day I’m with you, you tease me,” Prompto breathes as he leans down, kissing and licking at your soft skin. “Every time we’re alone, I fantasize about pinning you against a wall and drinking you dry while I make love to you...” 

You feel as though you’re about to pass out from the pure, unadulterated lust that’s coursing through your body. Prompto _wants_ you, wants your body, and not just for sustenance; but for pleasure. The revelation is too much. Your fingers find the back of his hair and you yank his head up—Prompto becomes pliant in your arms as you crush your mouth to his, kissing years of unresolved sexual tension into his mouth. You can’t help but moan as your tongue grazes his fangs. Prompto cups your face in his hands and kisses you back with equal intensity—he makes the mistake of taking your plump bottom lip between his teeth and biting down just a little too hard. You gasp at the small spike of pain, but Prompto pulls away as though he’s been burned. His eyes are dark and blown out with lust. You see the faintest hint of blood grazing his lip and his fangs. 

You wipe your lip with your thumb and look at him. He’s reeled back on the couch, arousal evident in his tented jeans, and he’s shaking, paralyzed with a mixture of fear and desire. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he says, shaking. “I should go, I should...I’ve hurt you, I can’t...” If vampires could cry, Prompto probably would be sobbing at this point. 

You shake your head and crawl to him on the other side of the couch, trapping him with your body, staring down at his terrified face. His fangs still haven’t retracted. You tentatively reach down and palm his erection, fixated on the way his eyes flutter close at your touch, the way his slender hips roll up at the friction. 

“Prompto,” you whisper. “Please. Take me. You’re thirsty, right? You’re not going to hurt me, I promise...please, baby, I want you...it’s all I ever think about.” 

Prompto growls low and heavy again and surges forward so that he’s on top. He buries his face in your neck again and presses his lean body into yours. You shiver at the contact. 

“Have you eaten?” he asks. 

“No-not...not yet...” 

With every ounce of self control, Prompto sits up and grabs one of the plates of waffles and shoves it at you. 

“Eat,” he commands. 

You waste no time in devouring the cooling waffles, finishing off your tea to wash them down. 

As soon as Prompto sees that you’re satisfied, he stands, scooping you up in his arms and carrying you to your bedroom so he can have his own breakfast. 


End file.
